𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

as imagined by aspen for divinelytm.

[prophcsy]

The following text has been faithfully transcribed from the ancient tongue into the modern language by aspen ( she / her, pst ) , for private use as professional agonist to nocturniafm. all events are true, and names have been preserved to honor the courage of those fallen. may their souls be commended to enerin and its deities.  

●  lady seraphyna tethalune, the blood priestess — biography , aesthetics . ●  lady nuray altinson, the lady of nightmares — biography , aesthetics . ●  ruling lord beric verathorm, the moonlake wolf — biography , aesthetics . ●  lady valkan athlyan, the night falcon — biography , aesthetics .

[talesinrequiem]

where. elaris keep - near the verathorm chambers who. morella kaelvorn & beric verathorm @prophcsy when. the forgotton world

as more and more houses converged within the keep, morella found herself retreating to the shadows whenever she could. if only for a little respite in her own mind. most living beings were exhausting. putting up with their continued existence taxed her mind more than she would like to admit. despite her silence, her brain commonly had enough to say that it would annoy herself. but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few she was looking out for, specifically.

the verathorm arrival seemed to carry the same circumstance it always did, which was good. despite the circumstance of ophelia being the only to survive of the chosen. but, perhaps they were a mask just like anyone else could. morella understood that more than many. she wasn’t looking for one of the younger verthorms, it was beric that her cold eyes looked for.

allowing them to settle, she waited, stalking the halls quietly for a short time and allowing her sister to have her conversations she expected to be in private. but this one was for morella to have all on her own. an echo for ferocity playing in the back of her mind as she waited. vryn was restless, she could feel it in her own bones. catching sight of the man in question, she moved to walk just behind him, like a shadow. just as she did with her sister.

“beric,” was her only greeting, low as if it truly was a wraith speaking. “a moment?” she offered, a kindness she would provide him for who he was. “i should like to speak if you are willing…”

[prophcsy]

The corridors near the verathorm chambers were considerably quieter than the rest of elaris keep. whether by fortune or deliberate design beric had found himself lingering there rather than returning to the endless cycle of greetings, conversations, and political performances waiting elsewhere. his pace was unhurried while his attention was fixed somewhere ahead when her voice reached him. his gaze shifted over one shoulder as he slowed before finally turning fully toward her. unlike many, morella kaelvorn never seemed interested in wasting words and he found that oddly refreshing. “lady kaelvorn.” the greeting came evenly accompanied by a slight inclination of his head. his eyes lingered on her for a moment, studying the familiar stillness she carried about her. there had always been something ghostlike about her presence. beric had never minded ghosts. at her request, the corner of his mouth moved faintly. “if i wasn't willing, i'd have made a far greater effort to avoid being found.” the observation carried the shape of dry humor before fading again. “you've gone through the trouble of stalking the halls for me.” a small pause followed, thoughtful rather than accusatory. “it would seem rude not to hear what earned such determination.”

[aenaos]

Lenore grew still. Beric had phrased his observation with idle curiosity, but she knew better than to trust his calm. She knew exactly the sharpness that lingered beneath, had more than once needled it to the surface, played with it, courted it despite her better instincts. She did not hide her face, keeping her eyes on his, the blue edging into something deeper, less the ice of winter and more the mist rolling through the mountains—fleeting and unknowable. “Blood has been shed in pursuit of that throne.” Her chin inclined by a fraction. “All our lives forever changed by the event, no matter if we think ourselves above it.” For the first time in months, she remembered the warm, sticky liquid painting her skin, the wet slice of the knife, the Chosen’s bodies strewn like discarded offal. “Only a fool would avert their eye now, at this pivotal moment. So yes, I am watching carefully.” A beat, then the lie, phrased like an afterthought: “It’s all I can do.”

Her fingers tightened against the stone for a moment, but only a moment. Then a soft laugh escaped her, light, airy. “That’s not an answer, Beric,” Lenore began, eerily feeling as if she were treading darker waters, trying her best not to let the depths take her, even as she knew she chose the plunge. He would not master her. “Maybe I did,” she continued softly, her voice like watered silk. “Maybe I wanted you sick with want.” Her eyes met his, unblinking, while she leaned in just enough to close the distance without bridging the gap completely, as if the wolf’s teeth were of no concern to her. “Maybe I’m insulted by how you did not come to see me, after all you said to me in Vallarion.” Her breath wove between them. “Maybe I pined for you myself, all alone in those distant mountains.” A moment passed, and then she turned away with deliberate dismissal. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Please. You can do better than that."

[prophcsy]

His gaze never left her, not when she spoke of blood, nor when she spoke of fools, nor even when she offered that careful lie and dressed it in enough truth to make it difficult to separate one from the other. for a moment, silence settled between them once more. the warm heliophrian wind stirred the loose fabric of his sleeves, carrying distant music from somewhere below. “no,” he said at last, voice low and even. “i don't think that's all you can do.” his attention lingered on her fingers where they tightened briefly against the stone before relaxing again. “in fact, i suspect you're capable of considerably more than most people realize.” there was no flattery in the observation, if anything it sounded like recognition. then came the rest, the wanting, the pining, the insult. beric allowed every possibility to hang between them without rushing to catch a single one.

for the first time, something faintly thoughtful crossed his expression. “maybe,” the word arrived calmly. “though if that was your attempt at convincing me you've spent the last month longing dramatically from a mountain window, i fear you'll have to work harder.” the corner of his mouth curved slightly. “i've always found you capable of more convincing lies than that.” his gaze followed her as she turned away, dismissing him as though she had not spent the last several minutes doing the exact opposite. “you think i'm asking the wrong question,” a small pause followed as he stepped closer. hunter to his prey. “i don't particularly care whether you missed me, lenore.” quieter now as his hand lifted to coil a curl on his finger. “because for someone who insists none of this matters, you spend an awful lot of time trying to convince me otherwise.”

[aenaos]

Each word was another arrowpoint delved deep into his flesh. Fate. Abandonment. Cowardice. Once more, she proved herself the better between the two of them. By all rights, the balm of her voice should have salved his fears instead of pulling at the fragile stitching that kept his composure together. “I know you would, Sera. You would never turn from a promise, no matter how much it might cost you to keep it.” His eyes remained on the hollow faces of the long-dead. His mind lingered on the dusted remains of all he'd once worshipped. “It is why I love you.” Warmth should have touched his voice, the carnelian of his eyes, as it had so often in her presence. Instead, his voice spoke as if grieving, and his gaze held the hue of cooled amber. “Even now, with what the world has taken from you, you hold onto hope. Your faith remains strong.” Nothing would break her spirit, he knew, not even him. She would endure. She would survive. She would come out stronger.

At last, he turned his face toward her, a careful mask replacing the man she knew. Beneath it, his heart slammed against his ribs in a manic rhythm. The realization descended like a hammer’s blow. He was a man of empty vows, a knight made of tin, who would choose a woman over his world, even if it burned—let alone that she might burn with it. He had coveted. He had taken what could never have belonged to him, for it was not for him to want such things, especially not her—she who was more precious to him than the stars and moon. His hand reached out again, his thumb stroking her cheek once. Selfishly, he would steal this last moment and safeguard it forevermore. A moment that lived on a single breath, the most precious one he would ever take. Then he stepped away. “I truly am sorry.”

[prophcsy]

The words struck harder than they should have. for a moment seraphyna simply stared at him because love was not something hiran had ever spoken of like this. not like a farewell, or like a eulogy spoken over something not yet dead. the heaviness in her chest deepened, grew even. his voice carried grief where warmth should have been and suddenly she hated it, hated the distance in it. hated the careful way he looked at her as though she were already becoming a memory. when he stepped away, instinct moved faster than thought. “no.” the word left her softly, breathlessly, as panic began to settle in. her hand caught the sleeve of his tunic before he could put more distance between them. for perhaps the first time since he had arrived, composure slipped. silver eyes searched his face desperately now, glossed with something dangerously close to tears. “hiran, stop.”

her grip tightened only slightly. as though she feared letting go would somehow allow him to disappear entirely. “what are you talking about?” the question came quieter this time, less patient and more frightened. because some terrible part of her already knew this conversation was no longer about promises, or hope, or philosophy. it was about them and she did not understand why. “why are you speaking to me as though something has already happened?” her voice faltered despite herself. “as though you've already decided something and i'm the last person being told.” the lantern light flickered across her features, illuminating the growing distress she could no longer entirely hide. her chest felt tight, every answer he gave seemed only to create more questions. seraphyna shook her head once. “you're frightening me.” the admission emerged barely above a whisper, honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. her gaze never left his. “please.” the word caught painfully in her throat. “tell me what you mean.”

[rotfire]

Vaelor  smiles,  the  indentions  of  smile  lines  curving  in  his  cheeks.  As  he  does,  the  warmth  cuts  through  his  face,  the  lines  akin  to  a  hardened  stone  carved  by  a  mallet.  It  does  not  reach  far,  only  towards  the  edge  of  his  mouth,  where  the  grief  could  still  be  seen  under  each  moon.  " Few?  Hm   give  it  time. "  His  shoulders  are  broad  in  their  width,  and  Vaelor  hopes  the  frost  still  clings  to  his  skin.  Only  if  it  were  to  cool  him  in  this  heat,  to  unburden  the  oppressive  closing  fist  that  Heliophra  brought.  " People  always  do  find  their  voice  after  the  damage  is  done. "  For  they  were  both  council  members  and  heirs  of  a  vassal  house,  and  both  knew  the  indictments  the  Velkynar  could  bring  with  them.  Nuray  even  more  so  today,  with  the  burden  of  host  laid  across  her  shoulders.  A  mantle  that  brought  its  weight  and  one  that  was  not  worn  without  costs.  He  does  not  envy  her.  For  their  realm  still  wasn’t  safe,  fragile  like  a  cliff  finding  a  fracture  in  its  line.  And  with  it,  the  dead  still  fell  like  flies,  with  nothing  held  but  a  shadow  and  the  lack  of  honor  in  their  name.  " Still,  I  hope  our  Velkynars  have  the  sense  to  spare  you  with  most  of  their  grievances. " Breathed  kindly  as  the  commotion  around  them  rose  in  crescendo.  He  only  nods  at  the  comfort  she  held  in  her  own  hollow,  forgoing  his  own  words,  though  not  his  agreement.

But  as  the  conversation  dwindles  to  Drakathar,  Vaelor  thinks  that  even  the  safest  ground  has  edges  worth  watching.  He  does  not  reply  to  it,  but  nods  once  more.  And  the  serrated  peaks  flicker  in  front  of  him,  where  stone  could  be  trusted  unless  it  shifted,  where  the  mountain  learned  to  breathe  one's  name  as  they  walked  through  it.  Even  the  silence  there,  came  with  its  own  echo.  When  Vaelor  speaks,  he’s  direct.  " Drakathar  does  not  change.  It  endures  what  it  gets. "  Whether  it  were  snowstorm  or  hail,  treachery  or  loyalties,  it  mattered  little,  each  alike  would  fall  upon  the  Drakathar  soil  with  equal  indifference.  Still,  Vaelor  strives  to  suppress  a  knowing  smile, and he  listens  carefully,  his  salt  eyes  bound  to  her  gaze.  Eventually,  he  lets  the  silence  pass  before  he  speaks.  His  expression  steady,  composed,  the  stoicism  layered  upon  him  once  more.  " Hm.  Perhaps. "  He  starts  carefully.  " As  for  your  distinction.  "  A  breath.  " You  speak  as  though  there  are  two  paths. As  though  I  am  divided  between  two  loyalties.  Council  against  crown. In  truth,  and you know this as well as I do, that one  rarely  exists  without  the  other  speaking  over  it. " This  time,  Vaelor  lets  himself  shake  his  head,  slightly,  briefly.  His  jaw  just  short  of  twitching.  " The  council  has  a  way  of  concerning  itself  with  what  must  be  contained.  And  yet  it  continues  to  speak  as  though  it  is  the  same  institution  it  was  meant  to  be. "   Hue  of  voice  still  unwaveringly  moored.  Vaelor reckons that Nuray is bright enough to read between each line of his. " And  the  crown  the crown is in servitude to the protection of its realm. Yet it finds itself answering to institutions that no longer seem to share its real weight. "  He  speaks  more  softly  now.  " If  chosen,  I  intend  to  bring  change  to  that  weight. "  No  shift  in  his  limbs,  only  a  steady  gaze  upon  her.  " For  what  it’s  worth  my  ambition  lies  not  in  the  way  men  like  to  accuse  ambition  of  being. "

[prophcsy]

Nuray listened without interruption, her gaze remaining on him as he spoke. unlike many vaelor rarely wasted words which made them considerably more difficult to ignore when he chose to spend them. for a moment she said nothing, the noise of arriving guests continued around them, servants crossing the courtyard, wheels rolling over stone, lanternlight flickering against desert sandstone. somehow it all felt very distant compared to the conversation unfolding between them. “no,” she agreed at last, her voice calm. “they rarely exist separately for long.” a faint breath followed as her gaze drifted briefly toward the arriving procession before returning to him once more. “which is precisely why most sensible people avoid volunteering for both burdens at the same time.” the observation was delivered lightly enough to pass for humor.

her attention lingered upon him for a moment longer, thoughtful now. “change, it's become a very popular ambition lately.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly, though the expression never fully reached her eyes. “everyone wishes to change something. the council. the crown. the hollows. the world itself.” a small pause followed. “the difficult part has always been deciding which things survive the process.” for a moment her gaze shifted toward the banners moving gently above the courtyard, every hollow represented, every grievance, every ambition. then she looked back at him. “and no,” she continued more softly, “i've never believed your ambitions resemble the sort people whisper about in corridors.” there was no flattery in the statement. only truth. “if they did, i suspect i'd find them far easier to predict.” a faint trace of amusement touched her voice then. “though i'm not entirely certain whether that should reassure me.” her head inclined slightly. “or concern me.”

[prodigxlis]

Onyx meets deep blue. Ásta knew of this man. Had lingered by the walk-ways that opened to the courtyard to catch a glimpse of him; had worried and hoped at the arrival of his carriage. They had never before exchanged a single word. “You—” They take a step back, straighten their back. “I didn’t ask—I mean! I did not mean that the way that it sounded,” Wings above! “I would never suspect—I would never even fathom the thought of you stalking me, lord Verathorm. That would be quite ridiculous, there wouldn’t be much to be caught.” The laugh that follows is half-forced, half-begging for him to allow it, if just to deliver them from the misery of such embarrassment. “And you did not ruin it, just… One cannot be too careful nowadays, can they?” They mutter, already wrought with grief, both past and borrowed.

They deliver him a small curtsy, and a smaller-even-if-bit-stiff smile. “Do you—Uh. Do you wish to keep listening to my performance? I can play a much lighter song. You must be wishing for some relaxation! Because of the... Because of the circumstances, I imagine…”

[prophcsy]

Beric's gaze lingered on them as the explanation unfolded, each attempt to correct the previous one somehow making the situation progressively worse. for a moment he said nothing. then the corner of his mouth moved faintly, amusement. “i'll consider myself relieved.” the reply came evenly. “being accused of lurking is one thing. being accused of stalking would be considerably more difficult to explain.” his attention drifted briefly toward the lyre before returning again. “though i suspect anyone determined enough could make a scandal out of either.” at the mention of caution, however, something quieter settled behind his gaze. “no,” he agreed after a moment. “they can't.”

his eyes wandered briefly toward the surrounding gardens before returning to asta once more, taking in the careful politeness, the obvious effort being spent recovering from the conversation's unfortunate beginning. for the first time, genuine amusement flickered briefly across his expression. “play whatever you intended to play before i arrived.” quieter now. “i've always found people choose the most honest songs when they don't know they're being listened to.”

[aenaos]

A quiet curl touched her lips, as if he had delivered her exactly what she wanted. Him. His attention. His stubborn mouth. “Oh, Beric…” Lenore turned her head and graced him with a hint of ivory canine. “After all we've shared, I would never do you the discourtesy of attacking you from behind.” Her voice wove between them, soft and sealed with promise. “I would look you in the eye.” Faint notes carried along the wind, an echo of strings rising from down below. Her gaze returned to the terraces, watching the lanterns blink in the distance, as if the tune had already reached them and the audience held its breath to see who would move first. “Though not with something so common as a dagger.”

Placing her hands on the banister, Lenore leaned forward slightly, the faint breeze stirring the curls along the line of her throat. Below them, a stream of bodies passed in diffused shapes. High above, the current would not touch them—but they could yet reach one another. Though her gaze was averted, she could still feel him near, the heat of him pressing against the edges of her composure. “True power need not announce itself. To climb upon a pedestal is to make yourself visible, and to make yourself visible is to limit your movements.” A slight shrug, elegant, careless. “That is why, while their proxy sits the throne, the council operates behind closed doors.” Realization struck her then. Lenore drew her lower lip between her teeth. She was revealing far too many truths, yet she could not help answering him, defending herself from the accusation even as it struck some deeper chord within her. “Are you not already? Did you not just scale the walls to reach me?” Her tone was light, faintly mocking, as she added, “Or did you miss me that much?”

[prophcsy]

For the first time, something closer to genuine amusement touched beric's expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “how reassuring.” his gaze lingered on her as she spoke, settling for a moment on the faint curve of her smile before drifting back toward the lanterns below. “i'd hate to think i had inspired cowardice.” the reply came calmly, absent of any real concern for the threat itself. at the mention of the council, however, his attention returned fully to her. he listened, allowing the words to settle between them. “perhaps.” he did not dismiss the observation, nor did he entirely agree with it. “though people spend so much time studying the throne that they forget to watch the ones circling it.” a small pause followed, thoughtful. his gaze drifted briefly toward the garden below before returning to her once more. “you included.” there was no accusation in the words. if anything, they sounded almost curious. as though he had noticed something and was waiting to see whether she would notice it too.

beric's eyes narrowed faintly, not in irritation, but in consideration, as though he were examining something from a different angle now. “missed you?” he repeated, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “i don't recall saying that.” the wind shifted between them, carrying distant music from somewhere far below. for a moment he said nothing, only held her gaze with that same patient attentiveness. “though i find it interesting that your mind arrived there before mine did.” his head tilted slightly. “did you want me to miss you, little bird?” the question settled between them, lingering longer than it should have. not because he expected an answer, but because he wanted to watch what she did with it. his gaze remained steady upon hers, unhurried, predatory in the way wolves often appeared most dangerous when standing perfectly still. “or have i misunderstood?” quieter now, though no less deliberate. “because for someone who claims not to care for crowns, councils, or the people chasing either, you seem remarkably interested in where my attention rests.”

[aenaos]

His touch stilled on her face. A shuddering breath left him, as if he had just been gutted. The grace she bestowed upon him was undeserved. This close, he could feel the warmth emanating from her skin. Her scent filled him, scraped him raw from the inside out. He had always known he loved her so dearly he might die of it, but now he learned what it was to burn in worship, to cast oneself upon a pyre and let lowly flesh be stripped from bone. True exaltation, he now realized, was never about pleasure. To have faith in something higher than oneself was to suffer. His eyes traced her features, retracing them over and over, as if to capture the memory, so he might preserve her in amber. If only he could. If only he could keep her away from the world, and for himself alone.

His hand dropped; he looked stricken. What a wicked thought. What an unworthy desire. He shamed her with his want. Shamed himself, his name, his vows. Hiran stepped away, running a hand through his hair. “Everything.” The word shattered the peace between them. He gritted his teeth. “Sera, I have to ask you something.” His eyes averted from her form, landing on a marble memorial. Dead faces surrounded them. Stone corpses stretched as far as the eye could see. “What do you believe is the greater sin: to hold onto a promise one can never keep, or to break one’s word before hope takes root?”

[prophcsy]

Seraphyna fell silent. for a moment, only the lantern light moved between them, flickering softly across pale stone and memorial faces carved into eternity. her gaze followed his briefly toward the statues before returning to him once more. whatever answer she had expected, it had not been this. the crease between her brows deepened faintly. she could feel the fracture beneath his words now. not the shape of it. not yet. but enough to know it was there. “neither is a simple thing,” she answered quietly. her voice carried no judgment. only thought. for a moment she lowered her eyes, considering the question with the same care she might have given a prayer. “but i think breaking one's word is the greater sin.” the admission came softly, without hesitation.

when her gaze lifted again, it settled fully upon him. “hope is not a kindness we should fear giving.” a small pause followed. the warm breeze stirred loose strands of silver hair across her shoulder. “sometimes promises cannot be kept through no fault of our own. sometimes circumstances change. sometimes fate is cruel.” there was something sad in that. something born from recent months. from scrolls reduced to ash. from homes lost overnight. from names now carved into stone around them. “but to abandon a promise before it is tested...” her voice softened further. “to decide for someone else that hope is not worth having...” seraphyna shook her head gently. “i do not think i could call that mercy, but cowardice draped in silk.” her gaze lingered on him with concern. searching. “if i gave someone my word, hiran, i would rather fail trying to keep it than surrender it before the day arrived.” a small silence settled between them.

[aenaos]

Seen through another pair of eyes, perhaps they would have looked the perfect storybook picture: a maiden leaning over the balcony’s edge, a lord climbing up to meet her. But she was more thorn than rose, and he was more teeth than poetry. Lenore felt the pull as he approached, and her hand lifted on reflex—though whether to help him up or push him down, she could not say. In this sun-soaked heat that roused the senses, she felt her restraint loosen, like a creature that had tasted blood and wanted more. Whatever happened, ruination would soon follow, whether hers or his, for this throne held only one seat, and she would bury them both for Nocturnia’s sake if she had to.

Her hand lowered, and she merely stepped aside to make room for him, cocking her head, the fullness of her lips slipping into the guise of a smile. “I was doing you a favor, Beric. You seemed so very lost in thought.” Lenore clicked her tongue. “You should be more attentive to your surroundings.” Resting her elbow against the balcony, her head tilted in idle interest. “After all,” she said airily, “your unguarded back will soon be a most tempting target.” Her eyes glinted, though not with amusement—something sharper than that. “Though I must say, the news surprised me. I did not take you for a willing puppet.” Her dress billowed around her form, the silks gossamer and flowing, as if she had draped herself in mist; as if she had nothing to hide. “I never expected you to mistake their collar for a crown, pretty as it is.” The phrase left her lips in a sigh.

She contemplated him for one held moment, then turned her face back to the view of the terraces, as if dismissing him.

“What a shame… just as you'd become interesting.”

[prophcsy]

Beric listened without interruption. his gaze remained on her as she spoke, lingering on the smile that hid more teeth than warmth. the warning about his back. the puppet. the collar. all of it offered with the same effortless elegance people often mistook for harmlessness. for a moment, silence stretched between them. then his eyes drifted briefly toward the shattered remains of the goblet below. “i appreciate your concern,” he said at last, voice low and even. “though at present, the only dagger i'm particularly concerned about seems to belong to you.” the corner of his mouth curved faintly, not with amusement, but with recognition. his attention returned fully to her. measured. “as for the council,” he continued, “i find it interesting how quickly everyone decided they understood my reasons.” a small pause followed. “especially the people who never bothered asking.”

the warm heliophrian wind stirred between them, carrying distant music from somewhere below. “you call it a collar.” his gaze held hers. unwavering. “perhaps because that's what a crown would feel like on your neck.” there was no cruelty in the observation. which somehow made it worse. only quiet curiosity. the sort a wolf might display before deciding whether something was prey. “personally, i've never found much use in letting other people tell me what my choices mean.” his eyes drifted briefly toward the city beyond the terraces before returning to her once more. “but do tell me, lenore.” the question arrived softly yet dangerously. “if you're so certain i'm dancing to someone else's tune... why does that disappoint you?” for the first time, something almost resembling amusement touched his expression. “because from where i'm standing, you seem far more offended by the fact that is not your tune i chose to dance to.”

[springscngs]

her sister had achieved what none other could. for centuries, the name velwyrn had been cast to the farthest reaches of nocturnia, until it had nearly been consigned to oblivion -- were it not for the marrow-deep hunger of the daughters of graveholt. now, their name was coiled atop tongues, hurled into prominence for all the world to reckon with.

with these developments, amarei, who had long learned to shape shadows to her purpose, had lost the familiar safety of obscurity. in heliophra, it appeared, she would learn to take space within metaphorical light yet -- but marble and starlight did not dazzle. the soft lull of bardsong and threads of light-hearted conversation did not fool her; even the most mesmerising of courts could be fashioned into a battleground. that said, amarei did so appreciate when polish veiled intent. she had never had any use for crudeness.

"you are most generous, my lady." a nod in mirror of the lady of the keep, her lips curving into a smile when asked about her journey. "even if it had not, i am not one to fret. what patience one must have to endure a wearisome carriage ride surely pales in comparison to the grace with which you receive your guests," she lilted. "your home is beautiful. one would assume it inspires song and myth alike."

[prophcsy]

Nuray's gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer than politeness strictly required. not rudely but thoughtfully. house velwyrn had become increasingly difficult to ignore these past months. whether that had been intention or consequence remained a matter of debate. nuray suspected the answer lay somewhere between the two. “you are kind to say so,” she replied smoothly. the compliment was accepted without false modesty, though neither did she appear particularly dazzled by it. years spent hosting nobles had taught her that praise often revealed as much about the speaker as it did the subject.

her gaze drifted briefly toward the keep rising behind them, lantern light dancing across pale stone and carved archways before returning once more to amarei. “heliophra has always inspired stories.” a faint pause followed. “whether they are flattering tends to depend entirely on who is telling them.”the corner of her mouth curved slightly at that. around them, another group of arrivals crossed the courtyard, servants moving with practiced precision to guide them toward their chambers. for a moment nuray watched them pass before returning her attention fully to the woman before her. “i imagine you understand that better than most.” the observation was offered lightly. but deliberately. “some houses spend generations preserving their place in history.” her head tilted slightly. “others seem to find themselves becoming history rather quickly.” not accusation, not quite praise either. merely recognition.

[celcstine]

a  rush  of  adrenaline  had  been  growing  in  his  chest  since  he'd  last  seen  his  beloved  heir  .  he'd  felt  heartache  caused  by  none  other  than  himself  ,  he'd  felt  lost  and  depraved  of  valkan's  touch  so  long  he  wondered  if  he  would  succumb  to  nothing  as  soon  as  he'd  catch  his  hues  .  anticipation  ,  angst  ,  he  was  in  truth  terrified  to  see  him  once  more  .  terrified  and  thrilled  all  at  once  at  gazing  upon  the  man  who  made  his  heart  ache  .  he'd  headed  for  his  quarters  as  soon  as  he'd  been  brave  enough  to  go  ,  only  to  be  told  the  heir  of  thurin  keep  had  left  his  chambers  to  explore  their  newfound  location  .

the  humid  air  made  his  thin  linen  shirt  cling  to  his  torso  .  his  nerves  getting  the  better  of  him  as  the  temperature  wasn't  the  only  thing  making  him  sweat  .  he  searched  for  far  too  long  ,  halfway  giving  up  until  he  saw  the  onyx  curls  and  tall  frame  seated  ,  contemplating  something  .  did  he  still  love  him  ?  did  he  hate  him  ?  had  he  truly  destroyed  them  back  in  celembron  ?  he  hesitated  as  he  stood  there  ,  wondering  if  he  should  approach  .  yes  ,  he'd  come  this  far  ,  yes  he  wanted  to  see  him  ,  touch  him  ,  to  gaze  upon  him  up  close  .  if  he'd  let  him  .  his  words  surprised  him  and  his  own  emerald  orbs  widened  with  the  words  .  he  didn't  disappoint  anyone  ,  he  was  the  one  who  did  that  ,  the  one  who  laid  their  love  bare  and  tried  to  destroy  it  with  knife  and  blade  .

"  not  as  good  as  i've  become  .  "  he  murmured  as  he  walked  further  into  his  comfort  .  his  scent  hit  him  like  a  wall  ,  clinging  to  him  ,  making  him  feel  relieved  already  even  when  their  conversation  had  barely  begun  .  "  you  look  well  .  "  oh  how  a  fumble  for  words  he  was  producing  in  his  pressence  now  that  he  was  here  .  apologize  you  fool  ,  ask  for  forgiveness  ,  crawl  upon  your  knees  and  ask  if  he  still  loves  your  foolish  mind  .  "  have  you  been  well  ?  "

[prophcsy]

For a moment, valkan said nothing. his gaze remained fixed on lathander, studying him with a quiet stillness that felt very different from the ease that had once existed between them. the month apart had not dulled anything. if anything, distance had only preserved the sharp edges exactly as they were. annoying. the part of him that had missed him most. the part of him that was still angry. he had spent weeks deciding which feeling deserved his attention more. he had yet to reach a conclusion. “have i been well?” the question came quietly at first, almost thoughtful. his eyes drifted away from lathander then, settling somewhere beyond the garden paths once more. “that's left to interpertation,” the dryness in his voice returned, though it lacked its usual ease.

at the question that followed, a faint breath escaped him through his nose. not amusement. not quite. “i've been alive.” which was not the same answer. and they both knew it. his fingers tightened briefly around the stem of the glass before relaxing again. only then did he finally look at him properly. really look at him. taking in the nervousness, the hesitation, the words that seemed to stumble where they once never had. it should have softened him. instead it only made the memory worse. the memory of celembron. of everything lathander had said. of everything valkan had been forced to hear. “and you?” his voice remained even. controlled. careful. “did the last month bring you whatever it was you were looking for?” a small silence followed. then, quieter still, “because i've spent most of mine trying to understand what exactly i was supposed to do with what you left me with.”

[rotfire]

This  time,  Marya  does  not  mimic  his  gaze,  does  not  imitate  the  closing  of  one’s  limb  to  another.  Instead,  she  simply  stands  there,  washing  her  eyes  over  the  width  of  his  frame.  " It  would  appear  so,  for  most  people  tire  far  too  easily. "  Never  her.  For  a  killer  never  abandoned  their  lust  for  blood.  It  was  a  hunger  she  felt  near  the  stone  in  her  stomach,  where  each  and  every  single  moral  of  hers  slipped  into  a  descent.  And  whatever  lived  in  her,  it  spoke  in  its  own  tongue,  thin  and  cutthroat.  " It  is  a  common  thing,  where  attachments  turn  into  liabilities  when  they  stay  unmanaged. "  This  time,  Marya  closes  the  gap  between  them,  the  scenery  around  them  only  darkening  despite  the  glittering  gems  in  the  sky.  She  felt  closer  to  it  the  more  she  stood  here,  on  the  highest  point  in  the  tower,  with  the  ether  on  her  tongue  turning  metallic  as  the  stardust  in  the  air  brightened.

A  huff  of  breath,  the  motion  succumbing  into  a  half  laugh  that  lacked  all  its  grace.  " The  fault  lies  not  with  the  sky  of  lovers,  nor  with  the  poet,  I believe  it  lies  in  allowing  any  of  them  the  illusion  that  they  matter. "  No  living  thing  on  the  earth  would  matter  more  to  her  than  the  dead.  Perhaps her Pater, but even he would understand that her faith took precedence above all. Marya  walks  even  closer,  her  hands  in  front  of  her  before  she  decides  to  loosen  them,  and  entwine  them  behind  her  spine.  If  one  couldn’t  see  her  hands,  one  might  wonder  what  could  be  held  in  her  fist.  " The  stars  that  I  like  to  keep    you  see,  they  do  not  talk  back.  They  do  not  guide  either.  They  stay  where  I  put  them. "  For  here  the  deathling  comes  again  with  riddles.  Her  own  indulgence  to  her  work, as  such  worked  her  mind,  arranged  like  bones  set  into  a  pattern  only  she  could  discern.  A  tilt  of  her  head,  and  a  question  offered  to  him.   " But  how  curious  you  made  me,  where  would  you  like  the  stars  to  guide  you? " Voice shrill and playful.

[prophcsy]

Valkan's gaze remained on her as she approached, though nothing in his posture shifted to meet her. he simply watched, quiet and measured beneath the moonlight, as though deciding whether her words were philosophy or warning. perhaps with her they were the same thing. “attachments become liabilities when they're unmanaged,” he repeated thoughtfully. the corner of his mouth curved faintly. he had learned that very thing himself lately “that sounds like something a person tells themselves shortly before becoming attached anyway.” his attention drifted briefly toward the stars overhead once more before returning to her. there was something strange about the conversation. not unpleasant. merely unusual. as though they were discussing entirely different things while somehow arriving at the same place.

at her declaration about stars that neither spoke nor guided, the faint amusement in his expression deepened slightly. “those sound considerably less like stars and considerably more like possessions.” the observation came calmly, absent of judgment. a small silence settled between them. cold wind moved through the terrace once more, stirring dark strands of hair away from his face as he considered her question. where would he like the stars to guide him? for a moment he looked beyond her, toward the distant darkness stretched beyond heliophra's walls. “nowhere.” the answer arrived simply. honestly. his gaze returned to her afterward. “i've never been particularly interested in being led.” a faint pause followed. “guidance implies trust. trust implies surrendering some measure of control.” the corner of his mouth twitched. “i've never excelled at either.” for the first time his eyes lifted fully toward the sky above them. toward the countless lights neither of them could reach. “but if they insist on pointing somewhere,” he added more quietly, “i suppose i'd settle for warning me where not to go.” the faint dryness returned then. “which, admittedly, would have saved me a considerable amount of trouble over the years.”

[aenaos]

His voice had died in his throat. He could not bring himself to move either, captured as he was by the sight. Her locks were wreathed in an aureole of light, her skin seemingly spun by the hands of saints, though he could not say whether she was lit from within or without. Not when her image seemed to burn him by its sheer presence. Hiran thought of the dream again, as he had every night since—how she had crumbled in his arms, like an effigy worn away by the hand of time. She, whom he knew was immortal in name only; that knowledge was his greatest curse.

Hiran swallowed, grief lodged in his chest like a blade, the flesh grown around it until its weight could no longer be separated from him.

What was he doing? What had come over him? She was his succor and shelter, yet now, when those eyes fell upon him, he felt trapped. Hiran’s brow lowered, a tight line set to his mouth. Love beat inside his chest, painfully so. Love drowned him. He could not breathe. He could not—

He forced the air into his lungs and stepped forward. “My heart,” he said, his voice thick. “How I’ve missed you.” Hiran tried to shake off the spell, telling himself the same thing he had since his return to Solari Sanctum. She was his destiny, meant for him; she was safest by his side. No harm would come to her if he was near. It could not. It could not. It could not—

Hiran reached out with trembling fingertips, tracing the smooth skin of her cheek. “I’m sorry.” For I will fail you. I will lose you. Whether by my own hand or another’s, you will be cleaved from my side.

[prophcsy]

Seraphyna’s expression softened the moment his hand touched her cheek, but the apology drew a faint crease between her brows. confusion. genuine and immediate. for a moment she simply looked at him, silver eyes searching his face as though the answer might already be written there. slowly, her hand lifted to cover his where it rested against her skin. “sorry?” the word came quietly. carefully. as if she feared she had misunderstood him. her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles before stilling. “for what?” there was no accusation in the question. no demand. only bewilderment. she could see the grief in him. the exhaustion. whatever burden he had carried into the garden tonight. but none of it explained the apology.

none of it explained why he looked at her as though he had already failed her somehow. “hiran.” his name was spoken softly. fondly. the way one might speak to someone standing too close to the edge of a thought they should not be carrying alone. “what are you apologizing for?” her gaze never left his. steady. patient. and quietly concerned. for a fleeting moment the memorial, the lanterns, even the grief surrounding them seemed to fade from her attention entirely. there was only him. and the strange sorrow behind a word she could not understand, and that growing pit in her stomach she kept trying to push away.

[rotfire]

The  lanterns  roared  like  beacons  of  light, almost  with  a  feverish  brightness,  and  under  it,  figures  surge  and  thread  past  each  other.  He  can  fish  out  the  chatter  of  their  voyage  as  they  hold  one  another  in  greeting.  And  as  the  voices  overlap  around  him  like  rising  tide,  his  footfalls  strike  the  desert  ground  in  a  ceaseless  rhythm,  where  his  mind  is  drawn  back,  unbidden,  and  always  back  to  Drakathar.  Where  the  cold  was  the  first  nip  that  greeted,  and  the  mountains  rose  like  a  stone  wave  coming  to  crash.  In  the  mountains,  the  melancholy  pressed  like  an  echo,  the  landscape  akin  to  stone  stacked  upon  stone  like  all  the  layers  of  the  earth  had  compressed  upon  each  other.  Here, in Heliophra, he only felt the heat.

When  she  greets  him,  he  nods  once.  With  salt  eyes  that are  neither  cold  nor  detached,  breath forming  where no  heat  or  strain  could  be  found  in  his  voice  as  he  speaks,  only  an  amicable  cadence,  shoulders  forming  into  a  welcomed  front.  " Do  you  always  greet  people  like  you’re  managing  a  diplomatic  incident? "  It’s  a  jest,  for  their  affiliation  was  more  forthright  and  less  diplomatic,  and  even  though  his  lips  don’t  curl  upwards,  his  shoulders  are  not  tense  as  he  walks  closer.  " Have  you  had  complaints  about  the  roads  already? "  He  comes  to  stand  in  front  of  her.  " Still,  how  have   you  been,  Nuray?  I  trust  being  back  in  your  hollow  has  done  you  well? "

[prophcsy]

A faint breath escaped her, not quite a sigh, though it carried the shape of one. the corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly at his question, enough to acknowledge the jest without fully surrendering to it. “only when i'm responsible for the outcome,” she replied smoothly. which, unfortunately, was most of the time. her gaze followed him as he stepped closer, taking in the familiar figure amongst the endless tide of arrivals. there was something almost reassuring in it. not because vaelor represented simplicity. he decidedly did not. but because some people remained themselves regardless of circumstance. that had become increasingly rare. “surprisingly few complaints,” she admitted. “though the evening is still young.” a pause followed as another carriage rolled through the gates behind him, servants already moving toward it with practiced efficiency. at his question, something quieter settled over her expression. “it has done me some good,” she answered truthfully. not enough. but some. “there are worse places to recover than one's own hollow.”

her gaze drifted briefly toward the lanterns burning throughout the courtyard before returning to him once more. this time it lingered a fraction longer. thoughtful. assessing. “and yourself?” the question came softer than the formal greetings she had spent the evening offering. “i imagine drakathar feels considerably different after a month spent waiting for the council to decide the fate of the world.” a faint pause followed. “though perhaps waiting is not quite the right word.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly. “some of you have been rather busy.” there was no accusation in the observation. only recognition. council member. crownwearer candidate. two responsibilities that had a way of attracting attention whether one welcomed it or not. her eyes held his steadily for a moment before drifting toward the arriving procession once more. “i confess i am curious which role has demanded more of your patience these past weeks,” she said lightly. “the council's burdens, or the crown's ambitions.” the faintest trace of dry amusement touched her voice.

[celcstine]

closed   starter   for   :   kaelen   garramoth   &   nuray   altinsoy  location   :   secluded   tower   in   elaris   keep   . time   :   a   day   after   everyone   arrived   .  [ @prophcsy ] .

an  emptiness  had  taken  root  within  the  ruling  lord  .  one  which  was  circled  by  demons  and  beasts  ,  wishing  to  be  let  loose  .  everything  had  changed  within  a  few  moments  .  every  goal  ,  every  want  and  desire  ⸻  evaporrated  into  the  depths  of  despair  .  the  tower  of  elaris  keep  had  been  his  only  demand  upon  arrival  ,  for  no  matter  who  you  are  ,  the  council  will  not  let  you  avoid  a  gathering  ,  not  even  when  the  one  you  love  most  dies  in  your  arms  .  onyx  hues  look  upon  pale  hands  .  in  his  mind  they  are  covered  in  crimson  still  ,  so  deep  it's  almost  purple  .  his  hands  encase  his  face  ,  wanting  to  be  closer  to  someone  he  could  no  longer  reach  ,  someone  gone  from  this  world  into  the  unknown  .

the  room  he's  in  is  void  of  living  .  he's  been  sitting  there  since  arrival  ,  uncertain  if  he  can  be  close  to  others  without  blood  being  drawn  .  the  madness  of  home  cascaded  like  a  river  around  him  ,  enveloping  him  into  who  he  was  ,  to  be  become  .  his  world  lacked  all  light  .  from  betrayal  of  his  own  flesh  to  the  death  of  his  beloved  .  her  name  echoes  still  in  his  mind  like  a  never  ending  anthem  .  lost  in  his  own  headspace  the  door  to  the  tower  creaks  .  only  a  selected  few  were  allowed  to  pass  the  guard  stationed  at  the  bottom  of  the  tower  and  it's  door  .  withering  ruling  lord  doesn't  turn  to  greet  ,  doesn't  say  anything  ⸻  for  what  words  can  be  used  ,  when  your  soul  is  being  torn  into  shreds  ?  between  the  need  for  more  madness  and  a  room  covered  in  crimson  by  those  who  stole  your  whole  world  ?

[prophcsy]

The climb to the tower had been made in silence. nuray had not announced her visit beforehand. had not sent a servant ahead. had not offered warning through letters or messengers. if kaelen wished to send her away, she would allow it without any reproach. some grief could not be negotiated with, she knew that too well. the guards had stepped aside the moment they saw her approach. the tower door opened softly behind her. for a moment, nuray simply stood there. the room felt hollow. not empty. like something had been carved out of it. perhaps something had. her gaze settled on him where he sat, motionless beneath the dim light. she noticed the stillness first. then the exhaustion. then the silence that seemed to cling to him more heavily than the shadows themselves.for once, she found herself uncertain where to begin.

she chose honesty. “i considered bringing condolences,” she said quietly. the door closed behind her with a muted click. “but i suspect you've heard enough of them to last several lifetimes.” slowly, she moved further into the room, her steps measured against the stone floor. outside the narrow windows, the first pale traces of dawn had begun to soften the horizon. not yet sunrise. but close enough. intentional. nuray had chosen the hour carefully as an excuse to leave before her presence became a burden. she stopped several feet away. not close enough to intrude. not distant enough to feel formal. “so instead,” she continued softly, her gaze resting on him rather than the room around him, “i thought i would come see no damage has come to the tower under your hand.” the words carried the faintest trace of dry humor. a small silence followed. then her expression softened, only slightly. “and whether is anything i can do ease your stay here.”

[psychecreations]

SYNNOVE KARLSEN as CLARICE ORSINI Medici: The Magnificent 3.02: The Ten

[wanshangs]

location : balcony , elaris keep ⏲ the forgotten  world from : nuwa lian , liege of perrelor keep to : open starter ! [ 𝟎 / 𝟐 ]

it's an odd hour for people to be awake, let alone go sightseeing through the house of elaris keep. perhaps that guess is the mere reason why lian feels confident in his plan that he wouldn't be caught in this particular endeavor. lying across the floor in a wide balcony, overlooking the city, and most importantly, the sky. he has in his hand the neck of a bottle, and takes a swig occasionally. earlier today, the young nuwa didn't even attempt to sleep, knowing it wouldn't come easily, not after what they learned, not with what's to come. his trust in this nonsensical belief makes him feel comfortable as he lies on the cold ground, so at ease that the sound of footsteps reaches his ears later than it should, startling him to sit up. akin to a deer caught in the forest, he turns his attention on the newcomer, expression morphing into something sheepish. "hey — didn't think this would be a popular attraction." lian muses, and knows it too late to hide the bottle in his grasp. "i can share if you don't mind... sharing." he holds it up in the air, and shakes it a little. "i don't know if we are allowed to bring drinks here, but i don't think anyone will care."

[prophcsy]

Nuray had not intended to seek solitude. such things were rarely afforded to her within her own home these days. with half of nocturnia housed beneath elaris keep's roof and the other half preparing to argue, scheme, or charm their way toward a crown, quiet moments had become something of a luxury. the balcony had seemed empty when she arrived. evidently, she had been mistaken. her gaze settled first on the figure stretched across the stone, then on the bottle he made no meaningful attempt to conceal. a faint brow arched, though the rest of her expression remained composed. “lord nuwa,” she greeted calmly. at the offer, her eyes flicked briefly toward the bottle before returning to him. something almost resembling amusement touched the edges of her gaze, subtle enough to disappear if looked at directly. “i'll decline.” a small pause followed as her attention drifted outward across the city below, its lights scattered beneath the endless dark of heliophra's sky. “though if this is where you've chosen to drink,” she continued, voice smooth and measured, “i can only assume we are proving to be terrible hosts.” the faintest tilt of her head followed then. “or the company inside is considerably worse than i realized.”